SEAL 2022: Envision

SEAL Staff Lily Agnew Jordan Brenner Kayle Brody Kate Clifford Julianna King Morgan Lomax Grace Packie Chengli Payton Gracelyn Spina Maureen Brady Instructor/Adviser

Hommage to Banksy - Acrylic & Oil - Devyn DeLaura

Thank You Janet Antico Kimberly Borin Ellen Denuto Carlin Heinle Caitlyn Roper Christina Rovayo Writers' Workshop Fall '21 Students

Floating

by Madalena Benegas

The light aroma of a burning vanilla candle floated through the air as birds sang in a high, clear tone. Soft grass tickled my feet as I laid in the sun’s fiery glory, watching the sky turn bright shades of crimson and red.

Around me there were children, playing with toys and buying balloons the shade of rubies.

Across the field of wildflowers and overgrown grass, sat a man playing the guitar.

As he strummed, the small silver guitar pick he held was iridescent with the glow of the setting sun. The music he played was sweet, and each note he plucked floated into the world, sending his love. It was a beautiful

scene full of life and happiness. Around me were couples sitting on picnic blankets with large wicker baskets stuffed with an assortment of foods that sat untouched next to them.

This park was like a refuge to those lost, and acted as a place where all could come together. As I watched this scene that looked like it was straight out of the silver-screen, I realized how incredible it feels to have all the joy and bliss of life surround you and hug you until you feel safe. This park is my brink between all stages in life. While I am here I am a child, I am a young teen, I am an adult, but most importantly, I am human.

Discovery

by Morgan Lomax

SEAL Magazine

I glide upon the winds of fate, A path that often alternates.

The sun above, it brightens still, A shining light and undistilled.

is produced annually to showcase Academy students' work across the visual arts and literature.

Ordained favors may fluctuate, On this I do not postulate, But hold the things that are so dear, And to my values I adhere: The twinkling notes of gilded harps, The feathery wings of a lark.

They emulate the beauty old– Music, as a story unfolds.

Angel Wing - Acrylic - Emilia Lucas

This year’s theme— Envision— encapsulates the various moods of the AOSE community as we worked through the derailing effects of the COVID-19 pandemic and now look towards a bright future.

This volume reflects our emergence as a SEAsterhood of diverse people, both in self-expression and in background.

Reflecting on our experiences of the past twelve months and celebrating the imagination of our student body are the intentions of the Digital Publishing class that created this magazine.

Sister Moon

by Isabella Toomey

I

n the beginning, there was just the vast sky, the bright sun, and the mysterious moon.

The sun and moon were sisters who lived in perfect harmony together. The sun had a very jovial disposition and never got bored while twirling and shining in the sky. The moon tended to get bored and lonely quite frequently since she and her sister only saw each other during the sunrise and sunset. As the sun began to retire for some rest one night, the moon stopped her sister and shared her feelings: “Dear sister, do you ever get tired of doing the same routine every day? Of just shining in the sky for nobody to witness?”

The sun defensively replied, “Of course not. Why would I? All I need is you and all you need is me.” The moon sensed that her sister was offended by this question and decided to drop the subject for it was not like her sister to get unnerved so quickly. But as the sun went to rest, the moon could not stop thinking about the black hole of loneliness she felt within her.

The following morning as her sister galloped and spun in the sky, the moon did not rest. She instead began to fantasize about creating beings who could entertain her and praise her for giving them life. She wanted to know what it felt like to be adored and revered, but the moon feared what her sister would say and think of her. She and the sun had never gotten into an argument and she did not wish to ruin their relationship. But as she watched her sister happily sprint through the sky, she wished to have that feeling. As sunset began to approach, the moon knew what she had to do. She was determined to create life. If her sister cared for her, then she would forgive her because she knew it was the only way the moon would find happiness.

When the moon thought the sun had retired for the night, she began to work. She created small, bright objects in the sky and called them her stars. The moon’s next course of action was transferring them to the earth.

She began this process until her sister, the sun, emerged from her slumber.She angrily said “Moon, how could you do this? We have been together for centuries. I have never abandoned you or done anything to upset you? Why do you feel the need to go behind my back?” The moon matched her sister’s angry tone and boomed, “Don’t you see? I am not happy. While you gallop in the bright,

Bountiful Berries - Colored Pencil - Emily Crabbe

blue sky I am stranded in a dark void where I can see nothing.” The sun was appalled by her sister's words. She never knew the moon felt this way and an overwhelming sense of guilt came upon her. The moon said, “I’m sorry sister but I want to be happy,” and with that, she sent down the first batch of stars to land on the earth. From these stars, beings emerged and the moon decided to call them men and women. The men and women were confused because of the two mystical objects floating above them.

The moon realized their discomfort and said to the sun: “We are causing an eclipse.

They do not understand what we are. If you do not wish to care for my creation, then I want you to leave so I may finish what I have started.” The sun looked at her sister and after

much deliberation said, “I never want you to feel alone. If this is what it takes to please you, I will stand beside you and help.”

Together, the two sisters used the stars to create seeds that would be planted into the earth and to create animals to roam the land.

The sisters chose one woman to lead the people they had created. They named this woman the Great Chief and it would be her job to serve as an intermediary between the sun and moon and their creation. To this day, the Great Chief monitors and teaches humans about their creators. She still relays messages between the celestial beings and those who reside on earth; however, the message she deems most important is that, whenever a human sees a shooting star, they should know that new life is about to take form.

Birdsong

by Olivia Nuzzo Sometimes I wish that I was a bird, To have a joyful voice and be heard, And for it to not be the reason I am declaimed, But make it instead my reason for fame.

A songbird never has to wonder, Yet when I speak I am torn asunder.

Birds are loved for their music and words, And I often wish that I was a bird.

If I was a bird, I would be a crow, Vindictive and vengeful and unable to grow.

Stuck in the past and all of its wrongs, I would not have a beautiful birdsong.

Incapable of forgiveness, a bad omen, Unloved and unwanted, seen as a burden.

With a voice so grating, at least I would be free, But this still would not satisfy my plea.

Whispers from the Breeze

by Chengli Payton Under a lonely tree I close my eyes and feel the breeze.

She whispers sweet words to me and sweeps me up to the mountains.

I feel breathless here, yet more alive than ever.

The world kneels at my feet, and the heavens crown my head.

In a futile attempt to make the mountains submit to my authority, and force the wind to flatter me, I trip and tumble down to the river.

Have I become too ponderous in my greed, too heavy even for the wind to carry me?

The only praise I get now is from the tree I keep company.

Daisy - Elizabeth Palmer Cluster - Melissa Hidalgo Butterfly Bush - Rachel Danzitz

I can still hear the breeze whisper my name, and see mountains bow down to meet me, but I disregard them.

Perhaps I will face them again someday when I feel less ashamed.

So, for now, I must be content with the meaningless words of the breeze that turn to echo coldly off the distant mountains.

3

Part I

E

ver since I was little, I was taught to be one with the shadows, one with the dust. Yet now Aldrich was telling me I had to be in the spotlight– the center of attention. I had never liked Aldrich. He disagreed with nearly everything I said, yet I knew the only reason he kept me alive was because he needed me.

For how much longer, I didn’t know. I was capable of killing him at any point in time, but he was the last remnant of my parents: their best friend. Although, their death had changed him, and I could no longer refer to him as “uncle” without cringing. I had no right now to be complaining, though. It was because of him that I would finally get revenge.

The way to the castle would have been easy for me blindfolded at this point. My palms were sweaty on the handles, and I kept taking one off, rubbing it on my pants, replacing it, and then the other. The motorcycle engine sputtered out at the edge of the forest. It was time for me to get dressed.

One of my best friends, Dolion, hurried away.

The only other reliable and trustworthy

I made my way as gracefully as possible up the grand front entrance, through the empty halls. I rushed along the many twists and turns of the castle, without a soul to stop me. A smile spread across my blood-red lips as I thought about what was coming.

My smile faded. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I kept telling myself I wasn’t nervous. Of course, I had the upper hand. The prince would never know what hit him. I pasted a smile on my lips, directing my thoughts to my sparkling dress, putting on the mask of the innocent girl who lost her parents.

I smoothed over wrinkles in my gown. I felt like Cinderella in a way, my blue dress shimmering in the light from the ornate candelabras in the halls. The dress was quite obnoxious. Nearly suffocating in the close-fitting bodice, I hurried along. Everyone else would be gathered there, giving me my chance to– The ballroom doors were suddenly before me. Smoothing over the bouffant, silk skirt again, I tilted my head down to Dolion on the right, not sure if the doorman on my left noticed the small motion, as he stared in awe at my appearance. I wasn’t used to being the

Aichmomania

by Kayle Brody

person in my life, Cozbi, helped me into my gown. The soft fabric was foreign but probably made up of the same material as the curtains in Aldrich’s room. He had silk; I had scraps. But not now. My gown was fit for a princess– minus the lovely knives, daggers, and blades hidden in my skirt, boots and gloves.

I wondered if my parents would have been proud of their daughter tonight, dressed up like a doll. They would most likely be disappointed on so many accounts. Even so, this was for them, for my friends, and for Urbs Furum. This prince would get what he deserved for the deaths of so many innocents, my parents included. Hostium Terrum, the country itself didn’t know of their prince’s heinous crimes, as he had masterfully hid them. Aldrich heard a rumor from an inside source about this ball. It would be at this gala that I could finally, in exchange for the lives of my people, take the life of this abomination of a prince.

The walk around the perimeter of the castle grounds took much longer in my bothersome skirts than I had anticipated.

I tried to keep them as clean as possible, while still keeping a fast pace. A bell tower went off in the near distance, a sign that I was late.

I curtsied, bowing my head deeply and bringing my skirts up slightly, not wanting to expose the daggers and other weapons that the mass of blue layers hid. center of attention; I usually hide in the shadows, like a cobra stalking its prey.

I took a deep breath as the elegant French doors opened and I began my descent down the grand staircase. The ballroom became still, all eyes on me. I heard a glass shatter in

the silence, but no one shuffled over to clean it up; everyone was transfixed, staring up at me. There he was. Prince Aichmo stood in the center, dressed in his most formal attire.

He began making his way towards me, locking gazes.

If I was any other girl, I knew that my face would be red as a tomato with the way that everyone was staring. If I was any other girl, I would have frozen then and there on the steps, praying that my legs would continue shuffling their way down the excessively long set of stairs. My skin retained its pale pallor and my feet continued their shuffling movements. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. It wasn’t like I hadn’t done something like this before. It was another quick mission, just on a larger scale.

It was hard not to think about it without smiling, but I kept up the facade.

I caught the sight of members of my team, tilting my head slightly. Cozbi captured my attention, giving me a stiff nod. The room was buzzing in anticipation. Glancing back at the prince, his blue eyes stared into my hazel ones. Blushing, I played my part effectively. It was as if time had frozen from the instant I stepped into the ballroom to the moment I reached the last marble step.

Innocence - Colored Pencil - Lulu Hunter

Not A Typical Cinderella Story As I stepped off the last step, the music resumed, as did everyone’s muttered conversations. References to me could be caught in any and all of their murmurs.

The prince reached out his hand and I placed mine in his as he knelt to the ground, softly touching his lips to my knuckles. I blushed again, inwardly cringing at it all. He stood and I curtsied, bowing my head deeply and bringing my skirts up slightly, not wanting to expose the daggers and other weapons that the mass of blue layers hid.

“Now, what might your name be?” he asked, his deep blue eyes staring inquisitively.

“Ella,” I smiled, my gloved hand in his.

A look of recognition passed through his gaze, and I panicked. Could he know me? I kept smiling through my worry, but calmed as he chuckled and said, “Like Cinderella?”

I laughed, “Maybe.” That could be true; I had felt like Cinderella earlier– and still did, but I was definitely a… different… version of Cinderella. As the music changed, he bowed, asking, “May I have this dance?”

I didn’t know much about the formalities of balls, but I knew enough to know that someone of a higher nobility was most definitely not supposed to bow to one of

lesser authority– at least around here.

Quickly, I curtsied, agreeing to one dance.

I flinched automatically as he brought his hand to my waist, and he immediately looked worried. “My apologies, would you rather–” “I am sorry. I haven’t danced in a long time,” I apologized, cursing myself. Why was I cursing myself? This didn’t really have to go well; I just had to carry out my role. I needed to stay on task.

I placed my hand on his shoulder as he replaced his on my waist, holding my other hand in his. I had practiced this so many times, and hoped that I didn’t step on my partner’s feet– a task that seemed nearly impossible with my bulging skirts.

Somehow, I managed for it to happen anyway.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness!” I gushed, but he seemed unfazed. I cringed again at how I sounded. It took all I had in me not to kill him then and there and save at least an ounce of my dignity.

“Aichmo,” he laughed. His laugh was warm, seemingly authentic. I shook my head, what was I thinking?

Prince Aichmo seemed to think that I was upset– I definitely was, but he couldn’t possibly know the cause.

“We don’t have to dance,” he said softly, looking into my eyes. He probably thought he could read me so well. Oh, would he have a surprise coming.

I couldn’t help but notice the part of me that almost second-guessed my orders. He seemed too genuine to be the heinous person that my country had made him out to be. But he was probably just playing a game with me.

Was I falling into his trap like countless others had? “Ella?” His voice snapped me back into reality.

“Dancing isn’t my strong suit,” I muttered. What a lame answer.

“Would you mind if I brought you somewhere else, away from this stifling room?”

“That would be much appreciated,” I said.

He was making this too straightforward. My team would easily be able to get rid of him away from the crowd. “As long as we don’t have to walk back up all those stairs.”

He grinned. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

I forgot myself for a second as I gazed out at the immense garden before me. Hedges were trimmed to precision, fountains and statues littering the never-ending grounds. A slight breeze stirred, causing me to shiver.

But then I remembered why I was here.

The prince seemed years younger than he had in the ballroom. His face was alive, his eyes gleaming as he led me through the garden. He appeared knowledgeable about the plants and the people depicted in stone, but I didn’t really care to know about either.

My hands were clammy, and I touched the metal in my glove, calming my nerves. I was so close to completing this simple mission.

If it was so simple, why was I having second thoughts? I tried my best to keep a smile on my face as Prince Aichmo pulled me through a maze of bushes. A wave of anxiety washed over me. It was up to me now. My team wouldn’t be able to follow us here without getting caught or making a scene. I wasn't prepared for this. How could this not have been anticipated? All the variables had been added up and accounted for– almost. I kept quiet, focusing on the twists and turns of the maze. Why was there a maze here anyway?

Aichmo stopped suddenly, frowning. I looked up at him, wondering what was wrong.

“Wha–” I started, but he put a finger to his lips. I tugged at the blade in my glove.

Do I kill him now, or wait to see what he had paused for? My curiosity got the best of me, as I followed him deeper into the maze of hedges. With adrenaline on alert, I strained to make out the faint sound of voices, but we were still too far away to catch any words.

(Continued on next page) 5

(Continued from page 5) After more twists and turns through the maze, and nearly stumbling into him when Aichmo stopped abruptly, I looked over his shoulder and saw the king standing there.

Aichmo's handsome face scrunched up in confusion. Why wasn’t the king at his ball?

And why I had not noticed his absence? I had noticed him on my descent down the stairs, but I guess I had gotten caught up in the prince’s presence. The prince may be a psychopath, but he was still captivating.

I blushed angrily at these thoughts.

Shaking my head, I tried to get my thoughts straight.Why was I acting like this? This would be the time to be composed– “He is with the girl. He will be out of the picture soon enough,” the king said. I hated his voice. It was cold and threatening, even in simple conversation. I had heard his voice on many occasions before, and it made me shudder each time.

“With her, the job should be completed already.” Another familiar voice responded.

I didn’t dare try to glimpse the speaker. I even wanted to pull Aichmo back a step, but didn’t dare touch him.

“They were sent to take care of him. It will look like an act of terrorism from the outside, and who would expect me to kill my own son? After all–” Aichmo stepped back, shaking his head.

What? I tried to step back, too, but he stepped on my skirts. Those stupid skirts. I fell silently and delicately, but Aichmo rolled into a bush. Idiot.

“What was that?” The other man asked. I stayed still, but not because I was frightened.

If I understood correctly, I was on the king’s side.

“Probably an animal,” the king said, brushing it off. “Anyway, you should go. I have a ball to attend.”

Aichmo scrambled up, making more noise. Oh, how tempted I was to fulfill my mission right then!

Glass slippers weren’t convenient when you needed to hide knives and make a quick getaway. When I pulled a blade out of my boot, Aichmo’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. “What–” In the split second that I stared at the prince– eyes closed, hands over his face in self-defense– I knew I couldn’t do it.

Second-guessing myself again, I knew I couldn’t kill him.

In a flash, I was on my back, Aichmo above me, the metal blade pointed at me now.

“Who are you?” he asked me, his voice rough, breath ragged. The fall had knocked the air out of me, and I fell into a coughing fit. Wincing, I knew I had given us away.

6

The man said, “That was definitely–” “I know,” snarled the king.

Aichmo stood quickly, hesitating a second before holding out a hand towards me.

I grabbed it, and we ran, the sound of the two men chasing us was the only thing keeping us together. This was supposed to be easy.

How had this gotten so far out of hand?

Always priding myself on my speed, it was hard to admit that the prince may have beenfaster than me. The ball gown must have been my problem. Nonetheless, I kept up with Aichmo’s pace, following him out of the maze, hoping he knew which direction to go.

I didn’t want to be caught by the king, whether or not I was on his side. I knew he wouldn’t appreciate our eavesdropping and the fact that his son wasn’t dead yet. The moonlight was our only light source, as we ran practically blind. I just hoped the same went for our pursuers.

Suddenly, we were out of the maze. I pulled Aichmo to the right, knowing if we went straight, we would be walking into more trouble. He had spared my life; I couldn’t kill him now. I put a hand over Aichmo’s mouth, dragging him backward.

He whirled, looking down on me. His brows knit and his eyes lost their stars.“We need to get out of here,” I blurted before he had a chance to say anything else. He stared at me, without expression. “So where do we go?” I snapped impatiently. He grabbed my hand once more, yanking me around farther to the right of the maze. He got on his hands and knees, lifting a few branches so that I could see a tight crawl space. I hesitated a moment before crawling through. I groaned as my blonde wig got caught in the pointy leaves of the bushes. Yanking it out angrily, I turned to make sure the prince followed.

I heard shouts as we emerged on the other side, out of the castle grounds. I hadn’t noticed before that the only barrier in the back of the castle was the tall hedge. Aichmo gazed at me for a second before looking away, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Come with me.” I began my way through the thick foliage, knowing that our rescuers would be on the other side. Realizing Aichmo didn’t follow me, I looked back at him.

“What?” I tried to be calm, even though we didn’t have time for it, but we also didn’t have time for him not to trust me.

“I assume that your name isn’t Ella,” he said, gesturing at the blonde wig in my hands.

I smiled sadly, shaking my head. “Who are you? Before I follow you, I need to know!”

I shook my head, keeping my eyes trained to the ground. “I can’t tell you that. Just know you can trust me.”

“Someone that pulled a knife on me just moments ago?”

“That wasn’t for you. I was frightened.” I continued before he could get a word edgewise, “Besides, who else can you trust?”

Aichmo’s eyes flickered back towards the castle before he let out a frustrated sigh, and began walking towards me. I had a gleam in my eye as I turned and began racing through the trees, Aichmo at my heels.

The lights from the palace didn’t penetrate very far into the forest, leaving me peering into the darkness of the trees. Aichmo stayed close behind and, sure enough, as the trees became sparse and the moon was visible once more, there stood my friends, Dolion and Cozbi, beside the motorcycles. They reacted immediately. “What is he doing here?”

In the dimness of the moonlight, I saw the shock register on Aichmo's face. “You two?”

They looked dubiously at me, and I nodded.

There was no time for discussion as voices were heard not too far off. We needed to go.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he stabbed you in the back,” Dolion muttered as I passed. I rolled my eyes and lightly punched his shoulder. He scowled back.

I slipped my heavy skirts off, realizing how much warmth they had provided. In just my tank top and pants, the wind stung every inch of my uncovered skin. As we hopped on the motorcycles, I couldn’t help but flinch as Aichmo hopped on mine. I didn’t want to take Dolion’s words to heart, but they had penetrated my mind.

Traveling parallel to the woods and the mountains, we didn't catch any signs of pursuers. Soon we turned down a hidden path and arrived at the boulder. Jumping off our bikes, together we pushed the rock aside and brushed off a tangle of vines, revealing the grate to the tunnel system. We hauled the bikes down, pulled the vines and grate back in place overhead, and climbed down to the firelit caves.

Fearing that the motorcycles would cause the tunnels to collapse, we made our way on foot. Starved for fresh air in the dank, musty tunnels, our underground escape ended at an entrance to an odorous storage closet in the old mansion. Emerging from the closet, I slammed right into Aldrich, and Aichmo into me. “Aldrich. We have been misinformed.”

I turned, allowing him a glimpse of Aichmo.

He didn’t seem surprised.

“I knew you would see his pretty face and fail us,” Aldrich said quietly, so that only I could hear. I ignored him, and instead led Aichmo to a spare room in which he could sleep, before heading off to bed myself.

My room was dark, moonlight spilling in through the open window. I hardly ever slept through the night peacefully. Silently, yes.

Peacefully, no. I slipped out from under the threadbare covers. Aldrich slept on the finest mattress around, an abundance of pillows

placed around his king-sized bed. He basked in the spotlight and riches of Urbs Furum, while I was left in the shadows with the dust.

I noticed with a start that my feet had somehow managed to guide me right to Aichmo’s door.

Hesitating for barely a second, I reminded myself that he was in my country now and didn’t deserve kindness or privacy. If I had given it a second thought, I might have left the door closed, but then I never would have noticed that Aichmo was missing. I never would have crept around the halls of the old mansion– never would have come across the corpses of my beloved friends Cozbi and Dolion, bullets through their skulls. Nor would I have been choked with tears, allowing a vulnerability. And maybe then the prince wouldn’t have come right up to me from the shadows, plunging a knife into my abdomen.

If I hadn’t noticed his absence, who knows where my fate may have landed me then? A silent, peaceful death? Never knowing of the

backstabbing traitor? Not “backstabbing.”

He had plunged the knife right into my stomach, so I would make no mistake as to the identity of my killer. Aichmo had tears in his eyes as I gasped, trying to draw in oxygen, the pain unbearable. Then he let go.

Part II Throughout the nineteen years in his birth country of Hostium Terra– from his father’s neglect to the dancing lessons and balls, to his mother’s death– he had never snapped.

Yet a few hours away from the castle, in this new place, he had murdered her.

Aichmo hadn’t thought he would be able to sleep, where anyone and everyone was his enemy. The fact that he held Ella’s knife from earlier under his pillow was little comfort.

Ella seemed to have quite a lot in her skirts.

Yet he had still managed to fall asleep– still in his clothes from the ball– only to be woken by a gunshot shattering the silence. It couldn’t be….

The Divine Sophia - Acrylic Painting - Nina Bohensky

The second made him jump out of bed.

His aquamarine eyes were wide, his dark curly hair unruly, as he made his way into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him.

He had to get out of here, but where would he go? He couldn’t go home to his corrupt country; he could no longer save it if his father wanted him dead. If– when– he made it out of this labyrinth of a place, he would journey far away and follow his dreams.

Footsteps sounded from down the hallway, heading straight for him. He ducked around the corner as Ella stopped before his door. If she had been the one with the gun, he was doomed.

She hesitated for a moment, then opened the door. Finding nothing there, she whirled in his direction. Aichmo backed up behind another wall, as she passed by. She didn’t seem to be as observant in the past few hours as he had known her to be, as he gracefully trailed behind her. Aichmo followed her to the lifeless bodies of the people whom she had called friends; he couldn’t remember their names.

She turned on her heel, straight for him.

He didn’t know why he did it. An act of defense? He could tell that she was distraught, and she had no weapon in her hand. Yet he stabbed her. Like father, like son, and he hated it. As soon as he did it, he wished to take it back. Tears welled up in his eyes, and she became just a blur to him. If they met again only after death, then he would apologize and make it up to her. All he had wanted was to make his father proud– to find someone suitable to marry.

His hands began to horribly shake, and her body fell to the floor. There was a creak in the wood, and Aichmo turned to find the man of his nightmares in the doorway. Of course he was here, a gun pointed right at Aichmo’s chest. That conniving, ruthless, selfish– and he pulled the trigger– on his own son. If the king had felt even an ounce of remorse for the death of his wife, he felt even less for Aichmo.

Epilogue As my body fell to the hard, tile floor, now a mess of blood, a gunshot rang out. Next, Aichmo’s body fell beside mine, dead in the blink of an eye. I had to suffer more. The king kneeled above me, laughing pitifully, Aldrich at his side. If I had any sympathy left for Aldrich, I might have warned him about the king. But I had none. I wished I had had the opportunity to kill myself before letting the king do it. The knife twisted and turned, shredding my pride and any last bit of me.

It was a mercy to lose consciousness forever.

7

Flashbacks

by Madalena Benegas

Bird Bath - Julianna King

As the seasons fade, Your love still lingers.

The sound of your voice; Melts like the snow.

It’s colder in Spring, Then it is in your winter– My eternal snow love Has left me alone.

The summer has come Its rays have burned me.

Your memory seared, In my heart still remains.

The icy pain you left is healing– My eternal snow love Is melting away.

It's autumn again, And the winds are howling.

The sound of their voice Echoes your name.

Hidden Memories

by Ava Orr Looking down from up above, You’ll find peace, For the ones you love.

Better days to come, Or so they say.

Persevere to the end, And you’ll get away.

Digging down low, From inside your grey pocket, You never cease to smile, At your grandma’s silver locket.

More memories to come, "Just give it away."

No, keep those objects close, For you it paves the way.

Mushrooms in Maine - Morgan Lomax

8

Garden Statue - Elizabeth Palmer

Moonlight Savings Time

by Emma Brading Once it’s dark, I lie in bed, I wait for your return.

On my pillow, I rest my head, Toward the window I turn.

Out of the night, a beam of light, Your face, I see vivid.

My nightly sight, An image fervid, I’ll wait for you, my moon.

The Fox in my Yard

by Bridget Lomax I looked on from a window Beyond the plain, paned glass.

And to the curtain tiptoed A world too close to grasp.

The sky was cloudless, shining, A firmament of blue.

To be inside confining No deeds I had to do.

While peering ever further Eyeline slightly downcast God, let me outward transfer To places of the past!

On stone walls of His mercy Gloved paws leapt from the ground; Feral eyes gazed at me, And by them I was found.

Luna Moth Caterpillar - Morgan Lomax

9

The Rotre

by Julia Muir

A

long time ago, before the existence of humans, the Creator made the world. He created the soil, the atmosphere and the water.

The Creator looked down on his creation and decided to make a creature to care for it. After great deliberation, the Creator decided on the perfect creature. The Creator called his creature the “Rotre." It had one long body and many long arms. The Rotre went around and named the other parts of creation. He called the soil “Ground,” the atmosphere “Sky,” and the water “Sea.” The Rotre was very proud of himself. He traveled around the world that he named “Earth,” admiring the creation and praising the Creator.

Now, at this time, the Creator was very busy. Although the physical world had been made, the Spirit Realm was only partially done.

The Creator left Earth, saying to the Rotre, “I leave my creation in your care. Please enjoy and protect it until I get back from the Spirit Realm.” The Rotre was overwhelmed with pride for being chosen for such an important task and readily agreed to stay. Then Creator left the Earth, leaving his new world in the Rotre’s care, in order to finish the Spirit Realm.

At first, the Rotre was very excited. He continued to explore the new creation naming new things. He called the falling water “Waterfall” and the protruding mountain “Cliff.” Every night, he watched the sky to see the Creator making the Spirit Realm. Even after seeing the whole world, the Rotre still enjoyed the beauty around him. He was still proud of his role.

As the years stretched on, however, the Rotre grew lonely without the Creator. For although the Rotre could see the Creator making the Spirit Realm in the sky, he could not interact with the Creator. As even more time passed, the loneliness turned into jealousy. The Rotre saw the Creator caring for his new creatures of the Spirit Realm as a father would care for his children. So great was his jealousy that one night, while the Creator was sleeping, the Rotre reached one of his long arms into the Spirit Realm. He grabbed the first creature he touched and pulled it back to Earth. It was a very strange creature that walked on two feet and only had two arms.

10

Mountain - Oil Pastel - Grace Potter

The Rotre was very puzzled and tried to decide what to name this new creature.

“What are you called?” the Rotre asked. “I am Human,” said the creature. Human had a quiet disposition that reflected the beauty and peace of the Spirit Realm. The Rotre then began to show Human around the Earth.

The Creator soon woke from his sleep.

Infuriated that one of his creations had been taken away from the Spirit Realm, the Creator went to punish the Rotre. Upon coming to Earth, the Creator realized that Human revered the Rotre as its creator.

“Rotre!” He trumpeted, “Why have you spoiled my creation!?” The Rotre realized his mistake and ran around looking for a place to hide. Even more enraged, the Creator took the Rotre and split him into a million pieces.

He then tossed these pieces around the Earth, so that the Rotre could never reassemble.

Each piece of the Rotre buried itself in the ground, full of shame.

The Creator, not wanting Human to be alone for eternity, created animals to keep her

company, and another Human. “Take this as a lesson,” said the Creator, “The one who disobeys me and does what he wants with my creation, claiming it as their own, will be punished.'' The Creator then went back to the Spiritual Realm.

The Rotre missed the Creator, even in his million pieces. He began to stretch each piece towards the sky, attempting to reach the Spiritual Realm; however, without being fully assembled, he will never reach the Creator. This is why trees never fully reach the sky.

The trees on Earth now are still pieces of the Rotre trying to reach the Creator.

Humans still stand above the other creatures of the Earth, as they are originally from the Spirit Realm and, therefore, the only ones named by the Creator. Today, in both the very north and the very south of our planet, one can still see the Creator forming the Spirit Realm, the colors of creation strewn across the sky, where no creature can ever reach.

Summer

by Madalena Benegas In the shallow pool of the waning tides, A soft and sweet tune you sing out to me; I listen well as the coarse waves collide, Your song melts in the whispers of the sea.

A bird with a prideful glint in his eye, Soars above rolling hills of golden sand; His shadow follows his flight in the sky, Tracing his shadow upon the dry land.

The setting sun envelops the whole world, And once again dusk’s cruel claws attack.

The stars above all danced and sang and twirled, The once blue sky has now turned pitch and black.

Our day at the beach has come to an end; I raced home after the fun day we spent.

Autumn

by Stella Hatch Gray, red, yellow, brown, orange, olive green To list a few of the beautiful shades.

Hidden in the year, waiting to be seen Leaves upon the trees, grass of many blades.

Leaves falling off the trees, sprawled on the ground Crunching under children’s excited feet.

The season of dark and light, lost and found, The time of the year which can not be beat.

The time of year when the darkness explodes, When the days are cut short and the sun hides.

And fog makes it hard to see down the roads, When the joy and glow of the summer dies.

Fall is just a taste of what is to come, Before the cold of winter makes toes numb.

Goodbye Sun - Melanie Montanez Nature - Grace Michaels Dew - Kathleen Byrne

11

Whisper - Digital - Bridget Lomax

"Anitari is the antithesis of the stereotypical sorcerer... kind, compassionate, and always thinks her actions through...."

The Evergreen Tavern

by Rachel Danzitz

Episode 1

I

watch from above and can finally see the pallid elf; she is the last one to arrive. Four adventurers, hailing from well beyond the Continent had all received strange and somewhat cryptic typewritten messages signed by a VS. Even stranger, all of the notes were delivered by voles. Although it may seem like an odd choice of messenger, the common vole is particularly well-equipped to act as a message carrier. For generations, voles have perfected the art of going unnoticed, whether it is for the simple reason of scavenging food in a ship’s galley, or to avoid hungry predators. They are quiet and very reliable if food is provided. Despite their diminutive size, voles can cover relatively flat terrain at a pretty good clip.

Casting my gaze to the petite elf once more, I realize her eyes are a bright violet, as though her irises had been replaced with faceted amethysts. In sharp contrast, her hair is a fiery shade of reddish-orange and tied back into a loose bun so that only a few small tendrils frame her pale face. Her face has soft features, but there is one blemish– a long scar that cuts across her left eyebrow, and continues below her eye. In her left eye, I can just barely make out scar tissue covering the violently purple orb.

As the elf called Amnestria stretched after the boat trip of several weeks, I glance around the vast expanse of the continent, far past 12

what the elf would be able to see. I look to the basin in Carnation Valley, all the way to the Northwest of the continent, and can still see Grim Hollow, where the elf should be meeting the rest of her comrades.

I gaze down upon the quiet and normally peaceful town of Grim Hollow and look for the three other adventurers with whom Amnestria would soon be meeting. Anitari is a tiefling who is a brilliant shade of vermilion; she has crimson horns that resemble those of a ram, in that they coil upon themselves. The horns and the red skin are typical for a tiefling, but the strange part is that she has wings that closely resemble those of a butterfly. They appear like stained glass as they are slightly translucent and segmented, with different colors on the wings. Anitari is a sorcerer, and an atypical one at that. Sorcerers are usually rather highly-strung and best described as chaotic.

Anitari is the antithesis of the stereotypical sorcerer; she is kind, compassionate, and always thinks her actions through before she casts any spell. In all my time watching her, I never once saw her cause undue harm to another person, whether friend or foe.

Whenever possible, she tries to resolve a situation or at least resolve some of the tension, by talking it out with her adversary.

Akmenos is also a tiefling, but rather than having Anitari’s typical red skin, his skin is a grayish purple. Akmenos’ skin blends almost seamlessly into his faded black,

long-sleeved shirt, which he wears religiously under his saddle brown leather armor. Where Anitari has smooth horns, Akmenos' horns are riddled with ridges, similar to a juvenile African mouflon's.

Akmenos also has cloven hooves in place of feet, another insight to his fiendish ancestry.

Although it would be easy to assume that the cloven hooves make his chosen profession of a rogue rather difficult– considering how loud hooves can be– he has managed to muffle the sound with a thick layer of leather when necessary. Akmenos is the finest of the rogues that I have carefully observed; he is more than capable of what this series of quests will entail.

The final member of the team is Panorin Adbalar. Together he and Amnestria are sure to test the patience of the tieflings. Panorin is the token necromancer of the group. I can’t wait to see how that manifests throughout the journey. Like Amnestria, he is of elven descent and is so pale that it appears as though if he were to lose even a minuscule amount of blood he would resemble the tender flesh of a coconut. Panorin is a bit eccentric. I must admit that while he certainly was the most qualified of all the Wizards I evaluated, I also determined he would add a touch of humor and outlandishness to the otherwise stoic group.

I switch my focus back to Amnestria Eilxalim and realize for the first time that she is the only one whom I did not fully vet before

sending her a messenger vole. In my defense, she is rather hard to track, as she was shunned from her village at a young age. After she left her birthplace, she moved into the woods and met a monk named Kristra. I know a great deal about Kristra, and I also know that she has never taken an apprentice before. This Amnestria must be rather talented, as Kristra took Amnestria under her wing and trained her. The lessons that Kristra taught are not typical of a Paladin, but they complement the Paladin’s style of mêlée combat rather well.

Although I had never really inspected Amnestria, it is incredibly difficult to find a reliable Paladin in this day and age, and as a result, I took my chances and counted on Kristra’s good judgment when choosing her friends and apprentices.

As Amnestria pads down the well-worn path littered with fallen leaves that leads from the docks to the small town of Grim Hollow, I see her tense up as her hand slips into the pocket of her grape traveling cloak– where there is undoubtedly a small and easily concealed weapon of some variety. As though there is some unspoken bond between the four adventurers, they all make their way to the Evergreen Tavern, which is located very near the geographical center of Grim Hollow.

The interior of the tavern is dimly lit, but the atmosphere is warm and friendly nonetheless. Unlike some of the other regions and towns on the Continent, Grim Hollow is generally a warm and likable town. Despite its misleading name, Grim Hollow is not the

tieflings, the bright red Anitari and the dusky purple Akmenos. Although both Panorin and Amnestria are rather petite and have the small frame that is so characteristic of Eladrin elves, both are able to swiftly hop up onto the barstools which were clearly installed with tieflings, humans, and other taller beings in mind.

The typewritten messages that were sent to each of the selected four adventurers included a very brief and somewhat vague description of the other three so that they could find one another without too much difficulty. Even in the dim light, the four have no problem seeing the barkeep, whose name is inscribed on the hand-carved wooden sign behind her that reads, “Evergreen Tavern. For queries, please contact the barmaid: Mary-Anne.”

The ever-polite Anitari waits until Mary-Anne is in their general area and signals her over. Before Anitari has the chance to utter a greeting, Mary-Anne asks: “How may I help you, Dear?” Anitari motions to the other three to place an order.

"Good morning, ma’am, do you by any chance have a nice caffeinated tea that I could order?” Mary-Anne nods and looks to the three others. As they just ate on the way over, it seems a waste for them to eat again so soon, given their limited funds. Mary-Anne interrupts their thoughts, “Oh, don’t worry about the gold, a generous benefactor has agreed to cover the costs of your meals and lodging at the Evergreen!”

The group of travelers sit clustered

"Akmenos... noticing that no one else had drawn weapons, carefully slips his scimitar back into its sheath."

Twin Mushrooms - Digital - Morgan Lomax

least bit grim, but it is rather lively and fun, with multiple large celebrations throughout the year. While the Tavern is not nearly as busy as it is on any given Saturday night, it still takes the petite elves some finagling to get to the bar where they meet the two

together at the knotty pine bar, clearly carved from a twisted tree trunk planed so that it laid smooth on the brushed metal supports which held it at a height of about four and a half feet.

Once their food and drink arrives, I am pleased to see that, though it is not their own

gold that they are spending, the meals are quite plain and economical. The group scarfs down their respective dinners, and as they are about to make their way to their sleeping quarters in the loft space above the tavern, a man whose face is greatly obscured by a dark hood approaches the group.

Though slightly apprehensive, the man walks with a purpose. At the front of the group, Akmenos sees the man and almost imperceptibly unsheathes his scimitar.

Though Akmenos’ movement is slight, the hooded figure raises his hands and speaks in a low, croaky voice as he stands stock still, “Whoa there, Pal. Put the sword away and I’ll answer your questions.” Akmenos looks to the group behind him and noticing that no one else had drawn weapons, carefully slips his scimitar back into its sheath. Curious, Amnestria and Anitari make their way to Akmenos.

The man continues, “Ah let’s see, there’s–” apparently counting the group before him, “–four of you. Perfect, let’s sit and I’ll tell you more.”

Speaking up for the first time, Anitari inquires, “Excuse me, but what is perfect about there being four of us? We weren’t given any details on why we came here, just that we would find sufficient work.” The other three all murmur in agreement. They follow the strange man towards a table situated in a back corner of the tavern, and settle themselves upon the wooden benches.

As the man begins to speak, Amnestria cuts him off, “Wait. Before anything else, who are you?”

The man chuckles lightly and responds, “Well, I could ask the same of you, little lady.” Based on the sheer displeasure and vexation on Amnestria’s face, he glances at her highly polished silver dagger and drops the lightheartedness. Now overtly anxious, the man stammers, “I’m Sh-sh-shifty Da-an."

"We don’t have any idea in the slightest who you are. Care to explain? And what do you know about us?” Amnestria presses on.

“A-all I kn-kn-know about you is that the p-pale one is Panorin-rin, the win-winged one is Anitari and the purp-purple one is Ak-ak-akmenos. You, I do-don’t know,” he says, pointing to Amnestria.

“How did you find us? And what do you want with us?” Amnestria has suddenly become rather confrontational, a habit she undoubtedly picked up from her surrogate mother, Kristra.

If possible, Shifty Dan becomes even more nervous than he previously was, fidgeting in his seat and wringing his fingers.

“Li-listen, I was j-j-just given some money to deliver a mess-essage to yo-you guys.”

(Continued on next page)

Beholder - Digital - Bridget Lomax

The four travelers talk amongst themselves, debating whether this man’s word can be trusted.

(Continued from page 13) Speaking up for the first time, Panorin asks, “Who paid you? Our letters were just signed VS. Do you know a VS?” “No I j-just g-g-got the money with my-my-my mail and a n-note telling me what you n-n-need to know,” Shifty Dan replies, now sweating bullets.

In her typical calm voice, Anitari speaks to the man saying, “All right, we believe you.

Why don’t you tell us what we need to do?”

The reassurance in Anitari’s voice works.

Although he does not remove his hood, Shifty Dan relaxes a bit. “Wh-when you came into Gr-gri-grim Hollow, did you see that bi-bi-big mansion on the-the hill? You need to go there an-and speak to the la-a-ady of the manor. That’s all I kn-know.”

“Thank you, Shifty Dan,” Akmenos responds in his deep and gravelly voice. “We will go now.” Shifty Dan nods his approval and quickly scurries out of the tavern and into the dusk. The four travelers talk amongst themselves, debating whether this man’s word can be trusted. Panorin eventually pipes up and offers, “Well, the letters did say to await further instruction. I guess that was it.

I say we go now, before it gets too dark.” The other three nod; all grab their gear and head out of the tavern into the chilly night air.

The four comrades make their way through the deserted town square and look towards the sea, where just barely visible through a thick layer of fog, stands what was undoubtedly once a most grand mansion. The mansion is now in a state of neglect and disrepair, but it still has a sense of grandeur.

As the group draws nearer, they begin to make out more details. Large baskets of food litter the dead grass of the front lawn, and the upper level windows have been broken, 14

seemingly from the inside. Once the group reaches the door, Akmenos tries the doorknob only to find it locked.

“Well, we’re not getting in that way.” he mumbles.

“Hey! Look at that window! It’s ajar. We could probably pry it open,” Amnestria offers.

“You’re kidding, right? How do you propose we get up there? It's got to be at least six and a half feet up,” Akmenos challenges.

“Me,” volunteers Amnestria.

Akmenos and Panorin burst out laughing.

“You?” Panorin manages to choke out between fits of giggles. “You’re, what, 4’6”?”

“Four-seven, actually.”

“I can help!” Anitari speaks for the first time since reaching the manor. And without further ado, she hoists Amnestria up onto her shoulder, and Amnestria’s small frame squeezes through the window with little effort. A dull thud is heard, and moments later the front door opens. Amnestria focuses intently upon Akmenos and stares at him, obviously thinking.

"Mind sharing what you're thinking over there, Amnestria?" Akmenos inquired.

"You're a rogue, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Why didn't you just pick the lock then!?"

"Oops."

“Oops is right,” Amnestria mumbles under her breath as she opens the front door farther to allow the other three access.

The foyer is dark, save for one tall pillar candle that sits on the end of the stairway banister, beckoning them nearer. Amnestria tries to be stealthy with light footsteps.

Unfortunately, the chance of a quiet entrance is gone when she steps on a decaying

floorboard that buckles, sending her crashing to the ground. The group (particularly Akmenos) begins to scold her– as another candle lights itself, this time at the top of the stairwell. Each of the four notice the ever-so-slight change in light and quickly cease their bickering.

“Should we follow it?” Panorin asks no one in particular.

“Sure, better than fumbling around in the dark,” comes Anitari’s quiet voice.

Without further discussion, the four begin climbing the wooden stairs, with Amnestria now testing each floorboard before putting her full weight on it. As they reach the landing at the top, more candles begin to light

The four begin climbing the wooden stairs, with Amnestria now testing each floorboard before putting her full weight on it.

themselves, which the four fellows follow, twisting and turning this way and that. The candles seem to be leading them through a maze,then they realize that they are back at the top of the stairway. Just as they are about to call it quits, an ethereal figure glides into their line of sight.

The figure speaks, “Well, you have made your way here safely. I suppose I should tell you why it is you’re here.”

“Who are you?” Akmenos asks.

“I’m Lady Cora. This is my manor. I have been trapped in this house since my mother’s death decades ago, as the house bears an enchantment that prevents me from ever leaving the premises. My father managed to escape the enchantment and leave the continent after his drinking made it impossible for him to hold down a job.”

“Ok, so where do we come in?” Panorin asks.

“I need you to free me.” Lady Cora’s voice echoes around the hall.

“How?” Panorin probes.

“Two of you need to go and get a very specific flower from the beach. A purple oxeye daisy. Purple, no other color will do.

The other two of you must find the spider that lives here and slay him.”

“Alright,” Amnestria replies. “Anything else you need? Like, oh, I don’t know, an ancient cursed tome?” This time she is snarky and sarcastic.

“No, but I was thinking that the tieflings could go and get the flower, while the elves

find the spider.” In response to the elves' questioning looks, she adds, “The elves’ smaller frames will help them navigate around the tight turns that they will find in the spider’s den.”

Akmenos begins to question this, but Anitari silences him with a discreet kick to the shin. Her melodic voice sounds, “Of course, Akmenos and I will leave right away for the beach.” Without another word, she grabs Akmenos and guides him to the door.

“Now, you two,” Lady Cora looks at Panorin and Amnestria. “The third room on your left, down that corridor, is the spider’s den. Go and kill him.”

Without so much as a nod, the elves set off down the designated corridor and reach the door. While Amnestria sizes up the door, Panorin simply unlocks it and meanders in.

The room is covered in spiderwebs, some fresh and others, covered in dust and grime, have obviously been there a while.

The two elves split up. Panorin winds up next to an ornate brick fireplace in the northeastern corner of the room– and stands stock still. Noticing this, Amnestria carefully picks her way through the maze of overturned furniture to stand by Panorin’s side. Above in the chimney, they can hear faint scratching sounds; Panorin taps Amnestria’s shoulder and mimes a spider.

Amnestria gestures that he step back.

Panorin does– with his eyes on the fireplace.

Amnestria taps her longsword upon the edge of the fireplace. Within seconds the

scratching sound becomes significantly louder. Moments later, a spider the size of Santa Claus bursts out of the fireplace. The spider has his sights on Amnestria, who drops the longsword, which is much less suited to close-range combat than her silver dagger is, and ducks as the spider leaps at her. Panorin comes forward and casts acid on the spider, who recoils when it hits him. The battle rages on with Amnestria using her dagger and Panorin casting spells. Eventually the spider falls to the ground, his legs crumbling beneath him, and dies. Breathing heavily, Panorin and Amnestria gather the spider’s limp carcass and head back to Lady Cora.

At the top of the stairs, they are met by Anitari and Akmenos, both soaked to the bone with seawater. The purple oxeye daisy lays by Lady Cora’s translucent feet. Upon

The candles seem to be leading them through a maze, then they realize that they are back at the top of the stairway. seeing the spider, Lady Cora shouts: “You did it! I’m freeeeeeeee!” She twirls about in sheer bliss, her gown fanning out around her.

Once she settles, she turns to the four adventurers and says, “In thanks for your help in freeing my spirit from this dreadful place, please go to the attic, and there you will find a small leather bag of gold. Split it amongst yourselves.” She glides out of the house at once into the quickly darkening night.

Akmenos, Panorin, Anitari, and Amnestria find their way to the attic where, as promised, there is a small amount of gold which they split four ways. As they make their way downstairs, Anitari takes the purple daisy while Amnestria grabs hold of the spider, souvenirs of their first quest as a team.

The four find their way back outside and trek back to the Evergreen, where their beds are warm and safe. As each head hits the pillow, they are down for the count.

If only they knew what this place has in store for them.

Spencer - Ceramic - Nina Bohensky

15

Sweet Love

by Bianca Rodin Oh, my sweetened, little baby puppy, Oh, you don’t know how much I adore you.

You're worth more than any sum of money.

When we first met, my heart instantly grew, Fur spotted like a cheetah while hunting, Astoundingly sweet like raw sugar cane.

People think we should be separating, But I am addicted like you’re cocaine.

Eyes are gray like a warrior's armor, The softness and silkiness of your skin.

Boy, you are an otherworldly charmer.

Living without you would make my mind spin.

You’ve sat on my bed for so many years, A plushie is one of my closest peers.

Loyal Puppy

by Samantha Insler We all long for real friendship. Someone we can confide in, trust, and laugh with. A person who after a long day will bring you a sense of joy. Some are born to naturally just click with their peers. To others, the challenge of finding a companion is not that simple. However, there is a friend you can always rely on. They sit and stare out the window waiting for hours. They jump and explode with joy at the sense of your presence. Their unconditional love and affection make any feelings of doubt or anxiety disappear. Their fluffy tails perk up and the sound of their bark echoes across the room. Their friendship and unwavering love surmounts any bad day.

16

(Counterclockwise) Sunset Dog - Samantha Insler Brody - Lily Moran Newbie - Grace Packie A Little Bit of Sunshine - Maria Clara Bragagnolo Rose

My Cat

by Josephine Copp-Salko My cat is yellow as the sun.

During the day he will not run.

Lazy Butters is my brat; He will not stir for even rats.

Sits by the window all the day, Up all night and wants me to play.

While I rest he bites my toes, Tickles my ear and nips my nose.

Our schedule is not synced at all.

He is playful when sleep I fall.

Despite our opposite table, Our love will never disable.

Sleepless nights he gives to me, But without him, lost I would be.

by Claire Daly Lupus Island was a small and isolated island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with a population of only 886. The people on the island were farmers; they planted and harvested crops, fetched water and cared for their families. Lupitans were extremely hard-working but solitary people. When they were not working in the fields, they rested with their families and rarely interacted with their neighbors. One day, their ruler, Canis, grew tired of his people and their reclusive dispositions. He yearned to find a way to change their solitary lifestyle.

He said to his people with great concern, “I have noticed how somber all of you have been acting, and it worries me. Why are you acting this way?” They agreed with the ruler and replied, “Our lives are boring. All we have time for is work and our families.”

Canis was perplexed but knew he could help them. He answered, “I am sorry this has happened. I will do everything in my power to make your lives more fulfilling.”

For the next four months, Canis made creatures to help his people work and keep them company. However, many of his creations failed. He fabricated an animal

called the “lion.” The lion was very strong, but when it interacted with people, its protruding teeth harmed and frightened the citizens. Canis and his council made the executive decision that the lion was not fit for the community. They continued to create more animals, all of which turned out to be dangerous to humans.

After months of trial and error, Canis finally created the perfect creature. This animal had fluffy yellow fur, four paws, a wagging tail and a calm personality. It was the ideal creation for the people of Lupus Island. This animal could be easily trained to do work and was very friendly. Canis hoped that his creation would meet the expectations of his people. After much deliberation, Canis and his council decided to reveal his creation.

He said, “I have finally found a way to pull you from your loneliness. I have created a companion that is smart and can be trained to help you with your chores. My council and I believe it is fit for our society, and I am giving you the task of naming this creature.”

The people were overwhelmed with excitement and replied, “Thank you, Great Ruler, we shall name your creation after

you.” The people called the animal “Canis” which translates as “dog.” The dogs did everything with their owners, from harvesting crops to fetching water. Their social nature brought the people of the island together as the dogs sought interaction with other dogs. While walking their dogs, families would interact with their neighbors.

This resulted in the formation of friendships and resolved the overall loneliness of the community. As the years went on, the Lupitans formed an unbreakable bond with the dogs. New breeds of dogs were created to perform certain tasks such as hunting and herding animals.

Today, Canis’ creation is known as “man’s best friend.” Due to its loving personality, the dog has brought people from all over the world together. Canis and his council are greatly respected for introducing the dog to the world. Some people honor them by naming their dogs after them. Dogs are the most loved animals on Earth and play a major role in making people happy and keeping them company. Their creator, Canis, will go down in history as the ruler who provided society with a man’s best friend.

17

I Was A Piece Of Glass

by Ella Delatush

To be a piece of glass A cerulean shade of blue Once a bottle Now shattered into a hundred shards.

To be a piece of glass Dropped into the sea Sunk down to the bottom.

To be a piece of glass Waves crashing Dragging it along the sand Breaking it down little by little.

To be a piece of glass Beat down Pieces cracking off Wave after wave Day after day Year after year.

To be a piece of glass Washed up on the shore Stepped on Ignored.

To be a piece of sea glass Once a perfect bottle Shattered by the ocean.

Now, she put herself back together, A beautiful treasure in a bed of shells.

The Horizon

by Maggie Jones Time is sitting on the beach on a hot day.

Time is watching the sand slip through your fingers.

Time is watching the sun dip beyond the horizon with a promise to rise again tomorrow.

Time is watching new memories and friends crash into your life like waves.

Time is watching the beautiful life you will eventually live rise above the horizon.

Time is sitting on the beach on a hot day.

The Beach

by Lily Agnew Serene blue water Bike rides to morning coffee Eternity here

Last Summer

by Mia D'Angelo

L

ast summer felt like so long ago when I met him. I was just a child, back in the days of youthful ways. These were the days of going to the beach with a bunch of friends and lying on the hot sand, as the sun burned our skin until it peeled like a banana. The California breeze brought an escape from the heat, cooling the day into night. Leaving the beach to go to the town fair, we were blinded by the sparkling lights emitted from the celebration. The place was filled with fried foods, laughing children, and the aroma of the ocean– all calling to me. As my friends and I were taking it all in, I glanced to my side and that is when I first saw him. His eyes glittered with the lights, and his smile was contagious; I began to smirk.

My friends noticed the connection and forced a meeting. Walking towards him, my heart began to stutter, thumping up and down, up and down. Talking to him was easy and natural. Time spent together was filled with something I had never known– something that can't be written down on paper to explain, but should be spoken out loud for all to hear.

This indescribable thing can be summarized by one day in particular– a day in which I awoke before Mother

Earth turned on her light and took a long stroll. My friends slept in from the night before. Not a soul was there. Walking in the peace the morning offered, I felt a presence behind me. Startled at first, I turned around, and there he was. He took my hand, and we walked in unison together.

We spent the morning on the frigid, wet sand and laid down as the tide began to pour in. The cold, cruel water flowed on our skin. I never beamed before, but what was I supposed to do now that he had kissed me? I felt so changed– and in the best way. We kissed again as the wind brought with it grains of sand, lightly stinging my skin, but I was oblivious. As the sun poked up above the horizon, I was already beaming. And as it rose in the sky, that inexpressible feeling from earlier rose within me.

As Jonathan held me in his arms, I closed my eyes and imagined what life could be like. I wished this would never end. He seemed to sing to me with his heart, a tune as sweet as “Forever” by The Beach Boys. This new day brought a new and transformed me. I was someone else now. For as much as I was caught up in the moment, I couldn’t help but long for the future.

My Friend - Rachel Danzitz Peepin' Out - Rachel Danzitz Inquisitive - Rachel Danzitz < Seahorse - Marker - Isabella Bergamini

19

by Hannah Kurian

M

any years ago, there was a goddess named Acantha who lived in a place beyond the mortal realm. Due to its majesty, remoteness, and beauty, only the most important gods and goddesses lived here.

This realm was very notable for its unique vegetation, so she decided to keep one of the seeds, in case she should ever need it. One day, Acantha was experiencing a strange urging within her to go and explore places beyond her own realm. She decided to listen to this stirring in her heart and descended from her immortal realm down to a lifeless one. She was troubled by the lack of life and zeal that existed there. She decided to fill this area with all forms of life, and thus created the "Earth." She brushed her hand along the bottom surface of the realm, and a black substance filled with various components was formed. She called this substance “Soil” and named the region where it lay upon the “Ground.” She breathed out into this realm, and her breath formed the “Air” with its various components, such as “Oxygen.” She took the various components of the “Air” and formed the “Sky” with it. She shed a single tear from her eye and used this tear to form “Rivers” and “Oceans.” Then, she took one of the seeds that she had kept from her immortal realm, and planted it into the soil.

This simple seed blossomed into all forms of vegetation, namely grass, trees, and flowers.

However, she still felt that this new realm was missing something essential. She decided to pluck a single lock of hair from her head, and transformed it into a “Human.”

Acantha, who was now happy with the mortal realm she had created, decided to go back to her own immortal realm. She fell in love with a god named Ashur. They decided to get married in a beautiful courtyard that faced a breathtaking sunset. At the end of each aisle, lavender-scented candles hung from naked tree branches. White petals were spread down the aisles as far as the eyes could see. At the end of the ceremony, the priest said, “With the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The meeting of their two lips was harmonious and marked the point from where they would start living in union with each 20

Waterfall - Acrylic - Cate Weiss

other. After two months of joyful marriage, Acantha was found to be pregnant. Nine months later, a baby boy named Melanthios was born, weighing seven pounds and two ounces. As a young boy, Melanthios was always submissive to his parents' authority, and therefore exemplified the quality of obedience. He enjoyed walking around and finding animals to play with. His favorite animal to play with was Demetrius the Deer, who had large antlers protruding from his head. Melanthios would go hide and then

after a minute, Demetrius would try to find him. Acantha always saw Melanthios as an amicable and honest person with a gentle disposition.

However, when he turned eighteen, he became a man with an entirely different character. He began to attend parties and would often get drunk. Acantha no longer had any form of control over her son. One evening, Melanthios introduced a girl named Cassandra to his parents. The parents did not find her appealing. For example, she seemed

in a town that was distant from where his parents lived.

About three months later, the wedding was still set to take place. Melanthios had invited everyone from his fiancé’s side of the family, along with everyone from his own side of the family, except for his parents. On the day of the wedding, Cassandra’s parents called Melanthios’ parents and asked them what time they planned on coming to the wedding. At the sound of these very words, the parents were enraged. Cassandra’s parents informed them of where the wedding was to take place. When the parents had reached the location, they furtively approached the pew that was furthest away from the altar and sat down. As the bride appeared, the entire congregation stood up.

As she slowly made her way down the aisle, she carefully examined the area to see if Melanthios’ parents had found out about the forbidden wedding.

She had not seen them.

Towards the end of the priest’s speech, he had asked the congregation if there were any objections to the marHighlighted Beauty - Pencil & Marker - Isabella Misrahi riage. Simultaneously, the parents exclaimed, “We object!” As these two words were spoken, the entire congregation fell dead silent. Melanthios slowly turned his back to see the two people that had stopped his wedding. He saw the spectacle of his parents standing and was astonished. Melanthios asked, “How did you both find the location of my wedding?” The parents sharply responded, “We believe the more important question is why you continued to proceed with the wedding in a secretive manner when we had already forbidden the marriage.”

Melanthios stated, “Neither of you had any valid reason to forbid my marriage.

Therefore, regardless of what either of you has to say, I am getting married.”

This comment broke his parents' hearts since their own son did not value their one opinion. His mother, who was fighting back tears, said, “Melanthios, you have lost every

unfriendly, distant, and cold towards them.

When Cassandra left, Melanthios informed his parents that he was engaged to her.

Melanthios asked for their opinions regarding the engagement. The parents were worried that Cassandra would have a negative influence on their son. They told Melanthios that they were not fond of her and decided to forbid the marriage. Melanthios attempted to counter his parent’s argument by stating every appealing quality he thought described Cassandra. After much deliberation, the parents still did not discard the decision they had made earlier, and Melanthios immediately left his parents' presence. He ran away and decided to live

Sunshine - Acrylic - Angelina Salese

notable quality that has ever defined you.

You no longer display the qualities of obedience, amicability, or honesty.”

Melanthios responded, “I am sorry that you feel this way, Mother, but I will live my life the way I intend to, which includes living with Cassandra.” However, quite a number of other people in the congregation began to stand up and object to the marriage. They did not believe that the marriage of these two people would last, since there was no solid foundation on which this marriage was being built upon. Therefore, around half the population supported the marriage, while the other half opposed it entirely. Due to the surprisingly large opposition, the priest decided not to marry them.

Melanthios and Cassandra declared war on the people that had opposed their marriage. The battlefield was a deadly arena filled with cannon fire and the smell of rotting corpses. Arrows were whistling by, hitting both men and dirt alike, covering the sludgy ground with a red liquid. Eventually, nothing but silence hung over the area besides the ghostly wind haunting both the men and women. Melanthios had given a signal to his battle-weary men and women to retreat.

However, suddenly the men and women of the opposing side were pouncing out of a fog like hungry wolves. Cassandra had been killed in one of these attacks. The side belonging to Melanthios’ parents had won.

At the end of the battle, a scene of total devastation was left. Melanthios’ heart was torn into pieces when he saw his wife’s lifeless body on the ground. He was enraged and screamed at the top of his lungs, which became the sound of thunder to the inhabitants of the mortal realm below. This loud scream had shaken Melanthios’ immortal realm so heavily that air particles were colliding with each other very quickly, causing the particles to become energized and then electrified. Eventually, a cluster of these highly electrified particles formed a lightning bolt. Every so often, Melanthios will unleash a scream in his immortal realm, which will result in thunder and lightning in the mortal realm below. This is why thunder and lightning appear to form from above the sky; this is where Melanthios lives. This frequent event displays the pain he has been continuously struggling with, which is the loss of his beloved wife.

21

Christmas Jeer

by Ava Orr

December 21, 2021. Loneliness seeps through my empty villa as my neighbors raise each other's spirits by decorating their homes in the most exquisite Christmas lights, hanging holly and stringing popcorn across their mantles that glimmer with Russian dolls painted to match the Nativity scene. Visitors speed down the busy streets spreading their sickly Christmas spirit, blasting Michael Bublé, as other idiotic citizens prance around the snow waiting for “Frosty” to come and wish them a merry Christmas. Rockette billboards fill up the highways, and restaurants start their holiday deals.

Seventy-two years I’ve had to live through this dreaded holiday in this dreaded town.

Noticing my recycling bins starting to pile up, I know I need to drop it at the front of the driveway so the garbage men can take it, but that means leaving the safe zone of my home.

These holly jolly civilians will strike me with their candy canes as soon as I step foot out of my house! “Pull yourself together, Boris.” A 72 year-old man shouldn’t have to talk to himself in front of the mirror; this town is driving me to a new level of madness. I slip on my black rubber boots and my black winter coat, and I head on my expedition to a very dangerous place. As I reach my final destination, I let out a breath of relief.

“Hey there Boris, care for some apple cinnamon donuts or some fruit cake?” I practically jump out of my boots as Linda Smith shoves tinfoiled loaves in my arms.

“Here take more. I baked them for you.

Thank the Lord above I saw you. I almost thought you didn’t like Christmas.”

I stand there dumbfounded, trying not to make any sudden movement. Maybe if I close my eyes she’ll go away.

“Who am I kidding? Everyone loves Christmas. Don’t you, Boris?” This woman truly isn’t sane.

“Yippee, I love it,” I say in the most nonchalant tone.

“I’m so glad!”

Made with Love - Amanda Guadalupe

22

Sneak Peak - Carly Dumaresq

Skiing Sensations

by Grace Gehm Oh, the feeling of the crisp winter air, Oh, the feeling of my blowing hair, So cold yet so warm in my heart, Reminiscing every exciting part.

Oh God, your wonderful creations– The blurring scenery exerts invigorating sensations.

The cold stinging my face, Down the mountain, it is not a race.

I like to take in every moment.

God, You’ve outdone yourself in every component.

What’s left of fall disappears.

I’m at peace when I am here.

Winter Warfare

by Ava Orr

Hope - Sophia Stuermann

Alaister is enjoying a snow day on his bicycle, when he gets ambushed. A crew of boys catapult snow onto his warm jacket. Is it purposeful, or was he caught in the crossfire? The snow knocks him off his bike as he tries to escape the cold fate that will be if he doesn’t leave. The boys seem unfazed by his collision and continue their shenanigans. The man tries to push the snow away from clogging his vision as more snow-assassins make their way over to his cold body. It's one man versus all– the origin story he will tell his kids when they ask why they live in the sunny state of Hawaii.

Thoughts of fun and jokes subside when the

snow starts to seep through wet fabric, the frigid cold spreading like the plague throughout his body. As the last boy reaches him, he feels his fingers lose feeling along with his toes. Fight or flight kicks in as he makes the quick decision to use his legs as retaliating weaponry. He kicks them around like a helicopter crash landing in an abandoned field. He takes down two enemies and decides he can make his escape. His now damaged bike races through the snowy battlefield, avoiding the traffic of horse drawn carriages. Some may call it an unfortunate event, but he calls it winter warfare.

23

Resonance

by Emma Ritchie

Lagerfeld - Colored Pencil - Nina McNamara

The silhouette of her piano is visible in the moonlight.

She stands, pondering her next move.

She instead slides up and down on two notes, continuously.

She begins to sing, her mellow voice infiltrating the atmosphere.

Suddenly, her world caves in.

The existence of everyone else made trifling, And her sole shadow transfigures To an audience of people, cheering just for her.

She embraces the applause, prompting a grin upon her face.

Her voice permeates throughout the whole theater.

Everyone around her full of glee And moving their heads to the melody.

Suddenly, she embraces her genuine surroundings, The only discernible noise being her melodious voice And the applause, the praise and admiration, coming from her audience.

Sensory

by Bianca Rodin Everyone said it would be fun. Well, maybe for them, but not me. I’ve got something "special" about me and that "special" quality made that day one of the worst experiences of my life. It was a lovely Saturday morning. My best friend invited me to her birthday party at an amusement park. Yay, right? That’s what I originally thought. We were playing around and having fun being kids when my special quality made itself known.

The flashing lights made my eyes sting. Every minor sound took over a percentage of my brain. The constant movement made me dizzy. All of it was so overwhelming for little me, so I ran to any corner I could find and cried. Someone’s mom found me, thank God. She called my dad who came as quickly as he could. I cried the whole way home. I could still feel the effects of my "special" quality roaring in my brain. Then, peace. The sweet silence and stillness of my childhood bedroom held me until the pain was gone. Over the years I’ve encountered my quality and know what to avoid, but I’ll never forget our first meeting.

Coming of Age 2022 - Pencil - Nina Bohensky

24

The Cost of Horse Racing - Pencil - Angelica Fata

Headspace

by Amelia Calveric I’ve parted ways with reality.

I’ve created a world in which the fulfillment of my Desires is the only thing that grants me Satisfaction.

The magnitude of my wildest dreams Continues to expand further into the distance Until the only thing you are able to make out from That range, Are the fantasies that engulf my imagination, But behind those dreams are a pair of Double doors That lead to reality.

The little glass window that I am still unable to reach Sits above my head awaiting my curiosity To inundate my petite, Fantasy body.

Curious Orb

by Ava Orr Fresh white powder coats the barren land as Jack Frost works his yearly magic. The snow sparkles as the sun reflects off the winter wonderland. Pine trees resemble Christmas trees missing their stars on top. I take a step out into the cold air and feel the snow freezing my ankles. Openness for miles is all that's visible. As my warm breath fogs up my glasses, I notice an unfamiliar sight– a small ball of light barely noticeable to the human eye. Curiosity gets the best of me, so my heavy boots create a trail of footprints.

When I get closer, the light moves further away. A game of cat and mouse is played as I follow this light through the empty forest.

I start to lose stamina, and the light halts between two giant sycamore trees blanketed in snow. I wipe my glasses once again, silently cursing my poor vision. Deciding that a little light isn’t worth getting hypothermia for, I turn back for my cottage.

'70s Pop Culture - Oil Pastel - Ella Renshaw

25

Communion - Madalena Benegas

Homebound A soft rustling of leaves in the woods, The fluttering of wings that have matured, And a warm springtime breeze, Warn that it is time to leave: Bringing the choice to stay or go…

The soft voice of a mother is heard, Whispering to her children something yearned.

They now are but seemingly lifeless shells, So small and unnoticeable to the eye.

But she sees them, full of life and hope, For they are her dear offspring after all.

“Listen, my children,” she murmurs, “Your old mother must soon go on away, Not to a place any of you can reach or see.

These mighty wings, they have taken me far, Swift and graceful through the endless sky.

But now weak and exhausted they lie, On this dire deathbed of mine.”

“Fear not, my sweet little ones, For when you grow, you shall not be alone.

When you sprout your delicate amber wings, Handsome as they will all well be, Your mother’s spirit will remain eternally by your side.”

“I will guide your way through the winds, My voice you may certainly hear as it sings.

Guiding you through mountain, desert, and valley, Through forests of green and skies of blue.

All so that one day, you shall reach home.”

“All shall be well, all shall be fine, For the path to your journey, You most surely will find.

Fly together as one without hurry,

by Maria Clara Bragagnolo Rose Take good care of each other, and remember.

Remember your mother and her words, Embed them deeply in your hearts.”

“As you travel do not forget, To see the many wonders of this world And this marvelous life we are gifted with.

Enjoy all the beautiful moments of it, No matter how small or insignificant they might seem.”

“Frolic in dandelion fields, Savor the taste of sweet delightful nectar, Feel the sunlight shining upon your wings!

Laugh, cry, dance, see, hear, feel!

Seize all the precious memories you shall make!”

“Do not be afraid when rain might come.

Though life can be hard and unpredictable, Do not forget that the sun shall always shine again!

It is all part of our own journeys, You will come to realize that as you grow, like your wise mother did.”

“Now my children, my time is running out.

I shall soon die, but you, my children, You shall live!

Live, enjoy, and learn!

Follow your mother’s advice, And you will find your way homebound!”

As her last breath made a sound, A soft breeze stirred the ground.

As she lay on her final eternal slumber, Underneath a shroud of silk amber wings, Life arises anew, Bringing with it the hope of home.

The Rose

by Olivia Mollo The rose bud blooms, For it knows not that people are dying.

It knows not that tragedy is striking, It knows not that everything is falling apart, It continues to bloom.

We bask in its simplicity and beauty, But we must aspire to be more like the rose.

We must recognize that our anxieties will not matter.

In the grand scheme of things, We must understand that life goes on.

The rose continues to bloom as it does every spring, For some things in life will never slow down.

It is one of the few consistent factors.

That is one of the beauties of nature, It rests for no one.

The petals grow every spring, And they fall to the ground every autumn, Routinely representing the circle of life, Over and over again, And its refusal to stop occurring.

A rose has such a short life, But it lives life showing its beautiful colors.

It does not hide and fear its end, It lives in the sun.

It brings beauty and instant happiness to all who see it.

To a rose, our problems seem minuscule and unimportant, For in the grand scheme of things, The world goes on.

The Earth still spins.

The sun rises another day.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by Isabella Clark As summer flies by like the blink of an eye Leaves begin to fall from the sky As the trees become bare And all that you can feel is the cold air It is that long awaited time once again

Spring - Ciara Hadley Mean Green - Riley Wasdyke A Newport Mansion - Alyssa Rossini

As you walk through town..

The simple space that was once there Now has a greater purpose The tree stands tall In the place where families will gather to embrace it’s warm light The countdown no longer seems never ending The decorations come out of the concealed boxes As you place an ornament on each branch a memory is unlocked These ornaments hold a special purpose.

27

Burnt Ends by Charlotte Scalamoni-Goldstein

I

t was sickening, a sound that had meant comfort– the gentle crackle of a fire when a family, no matter the dynamic, comes together for a holiday. The smell of smoke mixed with the sweet aromas of scattered candles. The dancing flicker of light reflecting, no matter where you looked. It was all ruined.

That gentle crackle was only a façade, hiding the true, gnawing, insatiable jaws that the flames used to devour the home on the other side of the street. They opened wide without mercy, beginning on the west side of the building and chewing up the garage, the gas pipe, the children’s bedrooms, the master.

The precious time between the first sight of the fire and the firemen's arrival was spent in silence, neighbors and children and pets listening to the deceiving, unforgiving sounds of a hungry flame.

Every crackle was another roof panel, another beloved doll, another unforgettable and irreplaceable piece of this family’s life. The smell of smoke filled up every possible cavity and stung your eyes, nearly choking you to death.

It soon mixed with the odor of fresh, unfiltered water that doused the house and surrounding streets, leaking from the fire hydrants hours after use. The flicker of light fought violently, refusing to escape anyone’s attention, and clashing with the red and blue of emergency vehicles blocking the entire community.

It was so unbelievably, beautifully haunting. Not beautiful in a positive context, but a misleading one.

Something thought to be so beautiful, so comforting, so warming, consequently destroyed lives, throwing them off course.

I’d be insensitive to say I could relate, but I understood their confusion, their questions. “How did Little Italy - Abigail Passarella this happen?” and “How did it start?” were questions left unanswered for some time. Eventually, the source would be discovered as an electrical mix-up in the garage, but the question that gnawed relentlessly on the family’s brains like flames would remain unresolved. “Why us?

Why me?” circled in their minds, despite the abundance of grateful comments: “I’m glad everyone is safe,” “Thank goodness we didn’t leave my mom to go on vacation,” and “At least we have someplace to stay.”

Silver linings were found and clung to, but the unanswered question understandably led to an irrefutable sense of betrayal and disbelief. Why? We’re all told not to play with fire, but it enables our survival. Without fire, we’re dead. Similarly, without love, we’re nothing but robots, unsatisfied entities that roam an unsatisfying Earth. And just as a house is torn to shreds by flames– insatiable, deceiving, or unforgiving love can hollow us– leaving nothing but a shell.

Shadow on Tile - Carley Dumaresque

Fire Escape - Melissa Hidalgo

Railroad - Margaret Cody

A Voice Not Heard

by Amanda Guadalupe A voice not heard, Opinions often blurred.

Thoughts and ideas left unspoken, Mouth sewn– fear of being broken.

Surrounded by words I want to let out, Yet lips always filled with doubt.

“Shy one” is not who I want to be, Prisoner of insecurity.

Feeling like a bird caged without a key, Desperately wanting to break free.

No speech does not mean no voice; My silence is far from a choice.

Mouth opened, ready to speak, Wings clipped, voice bleak.

Spoken but not heard, Opinions often blurred.

Breaking Free - Pencil - Amanda Guadalupe

29

Dear @john.tiktok.com

by Grace Roethlin Dear @john.tiktok.com, I can't continue our relationship anymore. I feel controlled and suffocated by having you in my life.

I can’t stop thinking about you, and not in a good way. You demand far too much of my time and it’s having a negative impact on my life– and my friends and family have noticed. I only intended to scroll through your one-minute videos as a way to relax when I came home from school and have fun, but now you demand all of my attention. I can’t work, I can’t eat, I can’t take a break without clicking on you and then wasting my precious minutes on mindless scrolling. Most of your content isn’t even entertaining anymore; it’s just not. I tried to distance myself, I truly did, but you wouldn’t let me go.

Deleting the app the first time didn’t work, and neither did turning off notifications. I’ve begun a new chapter of my life where I have made the decision to cut toxic and demanding people out of my life, you included. Tiktok, I’ll always cherish the times we’ve shared and the way you made me laugh, but it’s time to part ways. This is going to be hard for the both of us, myself especially, but I promise you I did not take this decision lightly. I'll always love you, but now we must go our separate ways.

Hyperthermia

by Emma Coraggio As the weather changes, Layers are appended, My closet rearranges, As my style becomes blended.

As the weather becomes warm, Layers stay the same.

Although the heat does swarm, It hides all shame.

My body feels ablaze, I feel my head lighten.

At least it steers the gaze, As it makes me feel less frightened.

Although I feel like fainting, At least my body’s covered, With this new picture, I’m painting, My flaws won’t be discovered.

As the weather changes more, I feel myself seize.

This fear that controls me is actually a disease.

Gust - Maria Clara Bragagnolo Rose

Out of Body - Devyn DeLaura

Letting Go

by Casey Cox

I’m finally letting go of you, Stitched up the cloth I managed to burn.

I remind myself how much it felt like drowning, Every time it was my turn.

I gasp for air, a simple phrase, A gulp of water, and your words of disgrace.

My flailing arms, and my need for praise, Being pushed down, far beneath my place.

I was six feet under, When you blocked my number, And told me that I wasn't worth this fight.

I scream and cry, Say you’ve lost your mind, But deep inside I knew that you were right.

I’m finally letting go.

Crushed - Oil Pastel - Emilia Lucas

I’m finally letting go of you, Held my head up by myself while throwing up.

Remind myself of your twisted games, And how dumb I feel each time you're blowing up.

Every spark and flare, you scream my name, The smoke in the air, as I try to keep my pace.

The roar and the glare, I’m always to blame, Burnt pieces of our memories, I could never find my place.

I can’t look back at all our texts, When you’d complain about your ex, And how our friends were all masterminds, Of some elaborate plan.

A hierarchy that never existed, Telling me I had it all twisted, But you're all full of self-sabotage, And a constant need for camouflage.

I don’t wanna fight anymore.

My gloves are off and lying on the floor, I’ll look back once, while I’m walking out the door, to remind myself why I can't hold on anymore.

The Brooklyn One - Grace Lombardi

31

Index A

Lily Agnew 19

B

Madalena Benegas - Inside Front Cover, 8, 11, 26 Isabella Bergamini 18 Nina Bohensky 7, 15, 24 Emma Brading 9 Maria Clara Bragagnolo Rose 16, 26, 30 Kayle Brody 4-7 Kathleen Byrne 11

C

Amelia Calveric 25 Isabella Clark 27 Margaret Cody 29 Aria Colavita 32 Josephine Copp-Salko 17 Emma Coraggio 30 Casey Cox 31 Emily Crabbe 2

D

Mia D'Angelo 19 Claire Daly 17 Rachel Danzitz 3, 12-15, 19 Ella Delatush 18 Devyn DeLaura - Inside Front Cover, 30 Carley Dumaresq 23, 28

F

Angelica Fata 25 Caitlin Flanagan - Inside Back Cover

G

Grace Gehm 23 Amanda Guadalupe 22, 29

Ceramic Tea Set - Caroline O'Callaghan

H

Ciara Hadley 27 Stella Hatch 11 Melissa Hidalgo 3, 29 Wen Hunter 4-5

I

Samantha Insler 16, 17

J

Maggie Jones 18

Tea Set - Ceramic - Caroline O'Callaghan Falling Out - Julianna King Peek - Aria Colavita Lonely Bench - Julianna King

In Motion - Caitlin Flanagan Mentor - Marina Werner Serene - Julianna King

Index K

Julianna King 8, 32, Inside Back Cover Hannah Kurian 16-17

L

Bridget Lomax Cover, 8, 12, 14 Morgan Lomax 1, 8, 9, 13 Grace Lombardi 31 Emilia Lucas 1, 30-31

M

Nina McNamara 26 Grace Michaels 11 Isabella Misrahi 17 Olivia Mollo 25 Melanie Montanez 11 Lily Moran 20 Julia Muir 10

N

Olivia Nuzzo 3

O

Caroline O'Callaghan 32 Ava Orr 9, 22, 23

P

Grace Packie 20 Elizabeth Palmer 3, 9 Abigail Passarella 28 Chengli Payton 3 Grace Potter 10

R

Ella Renshaw 27 Emma Ritchie 26 Bianca Rodin 20, 27 Grace Roethlin 30 Alyssa Rossini 25

S

Angelina Salese 17 Charlotte Scalamoni-Goldstein 28 Sophia Stuermann 23

T

Isabella Toomey 2

W

Riley Wasdyke 25 Cate Weiss 16